


Uncanny

by spinnd



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Crack, Humor, Kingsman Academy for the Gifted, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Quite most definitely crack, X-men Inspired
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-04-08 08:01:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4296927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinnd/pseuds/spinnd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mutation: it is the key to our evolution. It has enabled us to evolve from a single-celled organism into the dominant species on the planet. </p>
<p>This process is slow, and normally taking thousands and thousands of years. But every few hundred millennia, evolution leaps forward.</p>
<p>  <i>(Though if you asked him, Percival would be hard pressed to think of James in any way as an evolutionary advancement, that pyromaniac.) </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Weapon K

**Author's Note:**

> Purely, purely, for fun and crack and mild experimentation. In which Percival is frequently phased, Harry works well with feelings, Merlin is in control, and James can't stop playing with fire.
> 
> There may or may not be plot.
> 
> There may or may not be smut.
> 
>  
> 
> **Welcome to the Academy.**

 

* * *

 

 

One would think, wouldn't you, that having three agents on the mission would speed things up three-fold. But once again, Percival muses grumpily, he finds himself being the only adult, requisite minder, and overall babysitter on this retrieval op, and really, he ought to know better by now - 

 

"Percival?" The voice in his ear redirects him, and he grunts an affirmative as the last bit of his foot comes free of the bedroom door.

 

"I'm in. I have eyes on the prize. Give me a minute and I'll have it opened -"

 

"Stop." Merlin's voice is sharp. "Don't open the casing. It's rigged."

 

A low breath and Percival moves his hand from the clasp of the leather briefcase that he'd been a millisecond from unlatching.

 

"Couldn't have predicted that earlier, Fore Eyes?"

 

"I didn't write the Precog rule book, Hawkins." Merlin points out calmly. "How's our oligarch doing, Harry?"

 

In the lounge downstairs and draped on the leather chaise with a Grand Cru in hand, Harry Hart make a pleased noise in the back of his throat.

 

"Taking my Pull like a rabid barracuda, and about half a minute from bending me over the bar counter. His choice of drink is exceptional, however, so I shan't complain."

 

"He won't," Merlin says, sounding just the wrong side of amused.

 

Harry frowns as he takes another sip. "I'm sorry?"

 

A heartbeat later, the kitchen door explodes outwards in a plume of flame and sends the party screaming for escape.

 

"Did someone call for a fireman?" A familiar figure emerges from the smoke, grinning behind his face shield.

 

Percival groans into their headsets. "Firemen _put out_ fires, you nonce."

 

Harry sighs, standing to his feet in the midst of the shrieking, and knowing a lost cause when he sees one, abandons the drink to James when he sidles up alongside him.

 

"Is the party over so soon?" James drops his mask and finishes the flute in one pull. "Sorry I disrupted your date with the _blatnoy_. Will you have me instead, darling?"

 

Harry merely pecks him on a sooty cheek in response, and says, "Percy, get your arse down here already."

 

"I am _trying_. Next time, you get to phase an explosive briefcase through four inches of doorway."

  

"Gentlemen, a touch more haste, if you will. The foot soliders will be there in under 10." Merlin reminds them.

  

"What's the getaway plan?" Percival asks as they reconvene. Regrets his question the moment they skitter down the steps to find their Jag waiting in the mansion's lobby, parked neatly between the flower display and the coat rack.

 

"James!"

 

"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport."

 

They slide into the car, James flooring it into reverse before Percy gets his door closed. Over the colourful cursing involving James' intelligence, birth history, and questionable car handling, Merlin's voice continues to hum in their ears.

 

"Keep off the E18; there's about to be an accident on the KAD. You can take the 121, so just stay on the ring road for now. Rendezvous point is at the Kotka safehouse. Pellinore's arranged for pickup at 0600 hours so ditch your chariot before. Standard protocol, please, Lancelot. No more blowing up company property." 

 

The car lurches on a slip of black ice, and rights itself with a swing. "I said I was sorry!"

 

"No, you absolutely were not." Harry smirks in the rearview mirror, and James reciprocates it entirely.

  

* * *

 

"I don't know if Muskrat is quite my colour," Merlin says as soon as the doors of the control deck slide open.

 

James steps through, glaring at the back of the bald head.

 

"Doesn't it ever get boring, predicting everything?"

 

"Actually, you didn't turn off your video feed when you were gallivanting through the markets."

 

"Hmph." James lets his hands fall from behind his back. "Wear it anyway? It's got ear flaps and everything."

 

Merlin turns from his monitors, and eyes the  _ushanka_ bristling in his grasp.

 

"If you insist," he says, plucking it from his hand and donning it smartly. "Welcome back."

 

It is the talk of the Academy when Merlin chairs the St Petersburg debrief later that afternoon with his fur cap firmly in situ. In the next months, he gets more hats than he has heads to wear them on from various returning agents, amd eventually, they go from the status of fashion accessory to wall decoration in their Kensington townhouse.

 

Just as well, that he now has enough headgear to stock a convenient and personal millinery for Harry's occasional flamboyant outburst.

 

But he will still oblige with the fur cap occasionally, if James asks politely enough.


	2. Kingsman Academy for the Gifted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **MUTATIS MUTANDIS.** Changing that which need to be changed.

* * *

 

It is a sunny July morning when Captain Lee Unwin finds himself having tea with the Head of the Kingsman Academy, having had the front doors opened to him before he rang the bell and ushered into the sitting room before he had even introduced himself.

 

"Mr Towers."

 

"Please, call me Arthur," says Arthur.

 

"Arthur," he begins, then abashedly adding, "sir. I would like to enrol my son into your Academy."

 

"We get many offers for placements, Captain. We select only the best, however; job requirements and operational standards, you understand."

 

"Yes, sir. Which is why I think my boy would be very well suited for the training. He is... very good at what he does."

 

"Indeed." Arthur comments casually, then reaches a hand up to the younger man's face. "Would you mind?"

 

"No?" Lee says, uncertainly. And lets Arthur watch him bail his son out of their local suburban nick on the night of the 30th of June after he had slipped the keys from a pub patron and took his dayglo Impreza for a joyride. In all fairness, Eggsy had only gotten caught after he had to produce said patron's driver's license at a road block - and no amount of the famous Unwin persuasion could convince the officer that he was a Jamaican-born welder who's contracted a sudden and severe case of vitiligo.

 

Arthur snorts a laugh at the last thought.

 

Before the car theft, there were multiple other larceny charges in juvenile court; before the charges, however, was a ten-year old with a blistering run on the pitch, and a flare for tricks and sleight of hand.

 

Arthur sits back, and Lee tries to mirror his graceful slouch.

 

"Gets himself into all sorts of trouble, your boy?"

 

"He's a good lad, just doesn't quite know where to apply himself. School was boring, football isn't exciting enough - not when he can't use his gift." Lee shrugs. "I'm not making excuses, sir. I just want him to make something of himself."

 

"It's a fair cop."

 

Lee jumps at the sound of the new voice. The man just smiles at him warmly, and Lee finds himself relaxing at the sight.

 

"Hello, Harry," Lee choruses with Arthur, who hastily shuts down the mind link with a frown. Harry merely cocks his head, calm barely breaking.

 

"Recruiting again, Arthur?"

 

A knowing look comes into Arthur's eyes, and it's Harry's turn to furrow his brow. Lee just darts a confused glance between the two men, his bewildement only deepening when Harry narrows his eyes in an almost-grimace.

 

"You're serious?"

 

Arthur deadpans: "Perfectly."

 

"Why me?"

 

"Why not?"

 

"Even after how James turned out?"

 

"Lancelot is hardly the Agency's biggest regret. Even if he does rack up an inordinate amount of credit in property damage." Arthur's smile, while hardly faltering, does turn rather pained.

 

Lee is starting to worry just the slightest when the younger man - Harry - heaves a sigh.

 

"Fine. When do we start?"

 

Arthur folds his hands in his lap. "Right now would do perfectly."

 

At the Headmaster's head tilt, they turn as one to the window just in time to see a young man in a bee yellow tracksuit slip from a branch, the crack of wood sounding sharp and clear even through the closed panes. The kid just about loses his grip before he heaves up, grappling another branch like a vault and and swings into the room two storeys up, crashing through glass and muntins to sprawl, almost gracefully, beneath the sill.

 

Arthur smiles. "Hello Eggsy."


End file.
